Chapter 26: Perfume
A.N. We begin on Wednesday, April 3rd, continue to Harry's Occlumency lesson on Thursday, April 4th, and end with Rose's arrival at Grimmauld at Friday, April 5th. Easter was on April 8th in 1996.
Reviews are Weasley Catherine Wheels in Umbridge's office.
The invitation to tea with Dolores Umbridge, which arrived the morning after Dumbledore's departure from the school, did not come at breakfast, when mail and memos usually came. Instead, Rose noticed the fussy little envelope upon leaving her chamber in the morning, knocking itself against her door repeatedly. It very nearly struck her in the eye when she opened the door. Rose looked up after skimming the brief invitation (really not very polite, she thought, more of a summons than an invitation) and saw Severus Snape making his morning way down the corridor.
She caught his eye and raised her eyebrow at him, then looked meaningfully at the invitation. He stopped next to her and read the contents, then snorted derisively. "What a very great pleasure that will be," he remarked sardonically.
Rose fell into step beside him. "I think she knows," she said in a low voice. "I don't intend to confirm any of her suspicions, but I think the damage has somehow been done."
"She has no proof," Snape responded, also in an undertone. "And," he added, as they started up the stairs toward the Great Hall, "Incidentally, it will be safe to drink from anything she might offer you. The bottle in her office does not contain what she thinks it contains." When they reached the top of the stairs, they met one another's eyes briefly, and Rose gave him a nod before they broke apart to approach the teachers' tables from separate aisles.
"So kind of you to come on such short notice, Miss Evans," Umbridge said, with an affected little chortle. "I just thought it would be so very lovely to get to know one another better. I do value the opinion of a real French woman when I meet one." Her eyes snapped with malice over her wide toad's smile.
Rose inclined her head. "And I am so pleezed to meet in your charmant office, Madame. Truly, zees decorations are a delight." She motioned to the decorative plates and beribboned curtains.
"Thank you, thank you," Umbridge returned, continuing to smile as she began to bustle around the tea table. "Now. How do you take your tea? Cream? Sugar?"
"Un sugar, please." She cast her eyes into her lap demurely, then batted her lashes innocently as she received her tea from Umbridge's short fingers. "Merci." Rose made a great show of sipping her tea as Umbridge sat down, making approving little noises.
"Now then, now then." And her voice was suddenly brisk. "What exactly is your relation to Harry Potter?"
"Ee eez not in my class, Madame. I do not know heem well. But of course, 'ee is well known even in France. Le Survivant, zey call heem. I am sure you could 'ave heem for tea, if you wish to know heem bettair?" Despite her fluttering stomach, Rose took great satisfaction in knowing that she had inspired the bitter disappointment plain on Umbridge's doughy face.
"Well, that is very interesting," Umbridge huffed, seeming to forget her earlier show of warmth. "Because I have it on good authority that you, being the sister of Lily Evans of Cokeworth, West Midlands, are, in fact, Harry Potter's blood relation. That you are his aunt, Miss Evans. Will you deny it?"
"I would love to claim such an éminent relation, Madame, but I azure you, I know of no such zing." Rose shook her head and made her eyes go wide.
Umbridge sighed with frustration. "Very well then, if you will be so stubborn. Or ignorant. Do have some more tea, Miss Evans," she urged, and watched as Rose obediently drank from her cup. Then she leaned forward and hissed, "Where is Albus Dumbledore?"
"Surely 'ee eez in 'iz office, Madame? Ee often takes his meals zair, as I 'ave learned. I am sure 'ee would be made very 'appy by a visit from Madame." Rose said. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, now.
"He is not in his office, you silly woman. He's left the school. Haven't you read the Educational Decree?" Umbridge's color was rising.
"I try to keep up wis zem, Madame! Only, zair are so many. Which decree eez eet you mean?"
"I am the Headmistress of this school!" Umbridge had stood up; she crossed to the other side of the room and stamped her foot. "Albus Dumbledore has fled Ministry arrest and is a fugitive. Now I ask you again: Where is he?"
Rose felt herself, strangely, becoming more composed the more Umbridge's composure drained away. She held the woman's furious gaze for a moment, her own face at neutral as she took another long sip of her tea. "I do not know, Madame," she answered, her voice a bit cooler than she had previously allowed it to be.
Dolores Umbridge strode over to Rose, stopping only when her feet actually came into contact with Rose's own boots. "Where is Sirius Black?" she hissed. Little droplets of spit actually flew from her mouth and landed on Rose's face. She resisted the urge to wipe them away, however, drawing a perverse kind of strength from Umbridge's unraveling.
"Zee criminal, Madame? I cannot know, surely. Eef your Ministry cannot find eem, surely I cannot be thought to—"
"Liar!" Umbridge screamed. "And you should not be able to lie. I cannot understand it, but lying you are. I have it on good authority; you are Rose Evans, sister to Lily Evans, aunt to Harry Potter. Where do you go on the weekends when you are gone?"
"I 'ave a flat een London, Madame. Zee address ees on file wis zee school—"
"That address does not exist! It has been investigated, and your story is falling apart, Miss Evans."
"Ma flat eez protected; eet eez, how is it in English, indisossiable, zat eez, unplottable. I know zat your Ministry azures zee public zat all eez safe, but really some very funny rumors 'ave been spreading about zees Death Eaters. I would not to have ma 'ome found by such as zem." Rose tried to look earnest, but now, absurdly, she found she was fighting back a guffaw. Umbridge looked absolutely deranged with frustration. Her skin was red and blotchy from her hairline to the top of her bosom, which was heaving in its ruffled jacket. Her eyes popped. But just as she was opening her mouth to give another loud invective, a knock sounded on the door.
"Yes?" Umbridge snapped.
Argus Filch's voice came from the other side. "The Potter boy to see you, ma'am."
"Ah. Yes. Excellent." Umbridge seemed to realize how close she had been to losing control. She shook her head as if she was trying to clear her ears of water, and rebuttoned her jacket. "We will speak on another occasion, Miss Evans. I am not through with you."
"Oui, Madame," Rose returned sweetly. As she walked past Harry, she looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Our new 'eadmistress is such an agréable 'ostess, Monseiur Potter! I 'ope you are sirsty, for 'er tea eez quite good!" She winked at him, with her back to Umbridge, and then with a flounce of her robes she strode away down the corridor and into the staircase.
Once she was out of sight, Rose's pace increased. She was not sure who she hoped to find, but she felt she needed to tell someone that Dolores Umbridge was spending her first afternoon as headmistress interrogating people connected to the Order of the Phoenix. Rose felt a clarity settling over her as she walked. Gone was the uncertainty and shock she had felt after Umbridge's 26th Educational Decree. With Dumbledore gone, and Dolores Umbridge able to rule Hogwarts as she chose, Rose knew that they were now at open war.
As she passed the courtyard, Rose's glance fell upon the brilliant hair and laughing faces of Fred and George Weasley. She had been thinking to find Minerva McGonagall, but suddenly she knew she had found a better solution. The only other person within immediate hearing range of the Weasleys was their friend, Lee Jordan, who stood at George's elbow, talking animatedly. Rose caught Fred's eye a moment later, and with a swift and meaningful glance at the covered walkway in which she stood, she successfully summoned them to her.
"Hullo, Professor," George said cheerfully. "Want to give us detention? We're bored silly."
"Yeah, we could do with a little manual labor. Keep our physiques up," Fred agreed, grinning at her a bit impertinently.
Rose tried to keep her own smile from becoming a grin. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." After a swift glance around she added, "Have you given any further thought to those acts of mayhem and disruption which you had been contemplating this morning in class?"
"We haven't been thinking about much else," Fred admitted. "Are you here to talk us out of them, then, now Umbridge has assumed the throne?"
"On the contrary," Rose returned. "I had come to see if any of your plans had ripened. I believe that just now would actually be a most advantageous time for some bold act of pandemonium." Stepping slightly closer to them, and keeping her face neutral in case anyone was watching, Rose said casually, "Harry is in her office being interrogated at this moment."
The boys' lanky frames seemed to snap to attention. "Right you are, Professor," said George, as Fred said, "We're on it," in a tone which recalled Ginny's declaration at Christmas precisely.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Rose responded, nodding graciously. "Good luck to you."
She had only just landed on the last stair to the dungeons when the first firework exploded.
Because the following week was the Easter holiday, Snape had set Harry's Occlumency lesson for Thursday. "That way," he had explained to Rose coolly as they'd walked down from the first dinner after Dumbledore's departure, "There may be some chance of his retaining something of what is communicated to him over the vacation." Rose was bewildered, however, to see Snape striding away from his office alongside Draco Malfoy, just minutes after the lesson had begun. Three-quarters of an hour later, Snape returned, alone. Assuming that the lesson would now be much longer in ending, Rose returned to her marking, only to be interrupted a minute later by the sound of shouting and breaking glass.
She got to her feet and was heading toward her open office door to investigate when Harry came hurtling by. He didn't seem to have any idea of stopping, but Rose called after him. "Ongles de Morgan, Harry, what is the matter?"
He stopped, looking wild with panic. She held open her door and raised her eyebrows at him. After a second's hesitation, he hurried in. "Please close the door," he urged. But she had already done so. After placing an Imperturbable Charm on the door, she turned around to find him running his hand through his hair in agitation.
"What has happened?" She asked again. "What was all that noise about?"
"I— Snape— he's angry. I sort of, accidentally, got into his memories while he was gone. He's furious. Says we're done having lessons. I don't— I don't really blame him, it wasn't a good memory—"
"I'm sorry, but what?" Rose's mouth had fallen open, and she struggled against a flare of temper. "You mean to say that you did to him exactly what he's been doing to you all term and he's thrown you out of his office for it? And is refusing to teach you any further? He is even more of a child than I thought. The hypocrisy—"
"It's really all right." Harry said. He had caught his breath and was by now the calmer of the two. "I wasn't exactly making great strides in Occlumency anyway."
"It doesn't matter! Now that Dumbledore is gone he was the only one who could teach you. What are you supposed to do now, learn from Minerva McGonagall? From me?" She snorted and flung out her hands in a futile gesture. He just looked at her, clearly caught-off guard by the fervor of her response. "And if this is fine with you, why do you look like you're about to vomit slugs?" She shot at him. Despite his lowered voice, Harry still looked clammy and pale.
"I saw my father," he said quietly.
"You saw James? In Snape's memory?" He nodded. "I suppose they were arguing? I understand they were— far from friends…"
"He was a bully."
"Who, Snape? I'm not surprised—"
"No. My father. He was bullying Snape, along with Sirius, they were both doing it. Hexing him for no reason, humiliating him in front of everyone." Harry looked stricken.
"Oh." Rose could not not think of how to reply.
"I mean, my mum stood up for him. For Snape, that is."
"You saw Lily." Rose breathed. She sank into her chair. "How did she— I mean, you'd never seen her so young. I hardly remember it. What was she like?"
"She was all right," he answered. "I mean, she was kind to Snape. She was furious at Dad. She hated him. Why did she marry him?" Harry asked her suddenly.
"Well, she loved him, Harry." Rose answered. When he frowned, she added, "However she felt about him when they were— how old were they, anyway?"
"They were taking their O.W.L.s. They'd have been my age."
"They'd have been sixteen. I was turning six. Or almost; Lily always came home just in time for my birthday parties." She was in a reverie now, but shook herself out of it at the sight of Harry's face. "Harry, I didn't know your father then. I didn't. But when Lily started bringing him round two years later, while I was eight, doing accidental magic all over the place, everyone was struck with how much they were in love. Lily adored James. They teased each other, certainly, and they joked. But I never saw anything but love." Harry was leaning forward, and appeared to be drinking in her words eagerly. So she continued.
"James was always confident. He liked to tease me, and play jokes. Making my teacup float, turning my hair violet, making bubbles come out his nose when I was trying to eat my soup. But he always knew when to stop teasing. I can promise you that he never bullied me. He was— well, he was a brother to me." Rose smiled. On impulse, she stood up and went to her nightstand. From the drawer, she withdrew her worn photo album and set it before him.
"I know you've seen this before," she said, opening to a photo of James holding Harry, with his arm around a ten-year-old Rose. "But, just, you need to bear it in mind. Whoever he was in Snape's memory, he was this person in mine."
The two of them studied the photo for a couple of silent minutes. James' smile was sincere, his hazel eyes crinkled up, his glasses off-kilter. He adjusted them with the arm that was not cradling Harry, who looked around six months old, then kissed the baby's tufty head. Then James looked at Rose, and said something to her which made her laugh merrily. She tilted her head toward him, resting it against his shoulder. James squeezed her skinny shoulders.
After they had watched this sequence repeat itself several times, Harry looked up at Rose. He no longer seemed quite as nauseous as he had been. Still, his expression was profoundly sad. "Thanks," he said.
Then he stood up. "I'd better go. It's late." This was not strictly accurate; he would not usually be finished with his lesson for another half hour at least.
But Rose offered no argument, merely patting his arm and saying, "Good night, then, Harry."
At the door, Harry turned around. "I just hate that this means that Snape was right. Every damn thing he ever said about my father, how he was arrogant, how he was a bully, how he treated other people like scum, all of it, was true." The look on his face made her heart contract, but before she could say what was on her lips to say, that this may not be the full story, that there was so much Harry did not yet know, he had turned and walked out of her office.
Never before had Rose felt so ready to leave the castle and return to Grimmauld Place as on that last Friday in the first week of April. As that Sunday was Easter, there would be no classes for the full week after. She was not scheduled for corridor duty until Wednesday, so her stay at Grimmauld could be unusually long. And it's been such a week! she mused, as she fastened the latches on her carpet bag. On Monday, she had only been apprehensive about her evaluation meeting with Dumbledore. Now, the school was awash with Educational Decrees and Weasley-branded Catherine Wheels everywhere you looked. Fred and George had promised a lull to the meyhem during the holidays. Still, what with one thing and another, Rose had developed a near-constant throbbing headache. She picked up her bag and stepped out into the hallway, then stopped. Snape's office door had only just shut.
In impulse, despite her eagerness to be on her way, Rose went instead to his door and knocked. "Enter," came his cold voice, and she walked in.
"Severus," she greeted him.
"Miss Evans," was his terse reply.
"It's Rose, Severus." She folded her arms over her chest after setting her carpet bag down.
"Rose," he said. "What is it that you want?"
"I want you to give Harry Occlumency lessons. As you said you would do. As Dumbledore asked you to do," she reminded him.
Snape rolled his eyes and opened his supply cabinet. He began to pull jars off the shelves, placing them on the table at the front of the room one by one as he said, "He has come to the end of what I can teach him. If he has not chosen to put what has been taught to him into practice, well-"
"Foutaise, again, Severus. Do not lie to me, please. He has come to the end of your willingness to teach him. But the need continues. With Dumbledore gone, Harry is even more vulnerable."
"If you are so concerned for him, I wonder that you are so ready to leave," he retorted acidly, nodding at her carpet bag.
She flushed, but straightened her back. "I am not concerned for his physical safety this weekend. You know perfectly well what I fear for him. Voldemort may seek entry into his mind at any time, may try to make use of him. The threat posed by Dolores Umbridge is nothing to that."
"The Dark Lord has made no deliberate attempts to penetrate Potter's mind," Snape scoffed. "His visions continue, but they are accidental forays into the Dark Lord's mind by Potter. And if the Dark Lord had mentioned making use of the boy's mind, well," he stopped with a phial of bluish liquid poised in his hand and looked at Rose meaningfully, "I would know."
"You really think he shares everything that crosses his mind with his Death Eaters?" It was Rose's turn to scoff. "I would put money on it that Harry knows more about what is occupying Voldemort's mind than that sorry lot do. And that is exactly why Harry needs your help. I can do nothing for him in that regard," she said, frustration at this reality seeping into her voice.
Snape had begun pouring the bluish liquid into a bottle that looked identical, except that the level of the blue liquid reached higher. "Even if I had not taught him all I could," he said, "he is a hopeless case. He makes no effort to practice, has made no real progress, and resists at every turn. The experiment is concluded," he declared, a quelling scowl on his face as he looked up from the now-full phial.
"Because you can't stand knowing that he saw his teenage father bully you?" Rose dared to say. "Really? You prod through his worst, most humiliating memories all term, and one bad memory of yours ends the 'experiment?'" Scorn dripped from her words, now. "It is time you put the past in the past. James can't hurt you anymore. Voldemort has seen to that."
Snape took a shaking breath. Rose realized with some alarm that he was struggling against a terrible rage that made his eyes blaze and his cheeks go even paler than before. For several long seconds, they stared at each other, Snape livid, Rose defiant. When he spoke, however, it was in carefully measured words which she could never have expected him to say. "You should use my fire."
"I'm sorry?" Rose asked, perplexed.
"If you're going to go to London. Don't be seen walking to Hogsmeade. You'd be a fool to let her see you go." He was still standing rigidly, his hands gripping the table, but his voice was even.
"I always walk to Hogsmeade. I've been doing it all year." She quite enjoyed the exertion of the walk; it offered her a transitional time to clear her head between the two homes. "Surely it will seem more suspicious if I go by fire this time?"
"As you say, Dumbledore is gone. Everyone suspected of being one of his allies is being watched. Do you really think she would not attempt to follow you? It seems to me," he sneered, allowing some of his anger to pierce his inflection, "you do not know where the true danger lies. All that it would take would be for someone she has tipped off to ambush you while you were Apparating, and that person would be brought with you, inside the protection of the Fidelius charm. We would need to find a new headquarters, all because you fancied a visit with a criminal and his friend, the werewolf." He was positively spitting with wrath, now.
Rose refused to be cowed, but stood straighter than ever and narrowed her eyes. "Very well," she said coldly. "I shall make use of your fire. But Sirius is not expecting it; will he need a warning?"
"Somehow I doubt that he will mind the surprise." Snape wiped his hands on his robes, fetched a dusty copper bowl from the mantel, and handed it to her.
Rose said the chilliest "Thank you," that she could utter. Then she gripped her carpet bag, took a pinch of the powder, and pronounced "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," before disappearing into the flames.
When she stepped into the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, Rose took a moment to breathe away her irritation as she brushed the mingled ash and Floo Powder from her robe. She could hear Sirius creaking down the hall hurriedly, but she did not move to meet him until he was clamoring down the stairs. She could still see Severus' pale face and snapping black eyes in her mind's eye, still hear his accusations. I'm not abandoning Harry, she assured herself, as she turned to smile at Sirius. I'm just refusing to abandon Sirius.
"Trying to keep me on my toes, Mademoiselle?" Sirius asked teasingly. "This is neither your usual time nor your usual place." He embraced her without waiting for an answer. For a moment, she merely reveled in the feeling of his arms around her, allowing her disquiet to fall away. Sirius brushed some ash from her face with his thumb, and she smiled into his eyes.
"Tu m'as manqué,"1 she breathed, and he returned, "J'ai eu bien pire surprises,"2 just before their lips met.
With her head against Sirius' chest, and his hand gently massaging her back, Rose's fatigue, her headache, her worry left, accompanying with her deep exhalation. Then she said, with her eyes closed, "It was Severus."
"What did Snivellus do?" Sirius asked, with exaggerated concern. "I shall defend you from the nasty git. Which vengeance shall I take?"
"He suggested that I use his fire, rather than walking to Hogsmeade. He pointed out that Umbridge is probably prepared to follow me, and may be willing to waylay me during Apparition. That is why I took the Floo, because of Severus."
"Well." Sirius looked reluctantly impressed. "That's… very decent of him." He smirked and added, "I wonder what his angle is?"
"I don't think he had one," Rose replied. "I had just quarreled with him." As soon as she said it, she wished it unsaid. She was not interested in relating to Sirius that Snape had stopped giving Harry Occlumency lessons. She could easily imagine that such an outrage would, in his mind, justify a visit to Hogwarts to exact some sort of revenge.
"What were you quarreling over?" His grey eyes found hers. She forced a smile.
"Harry, of course. And you. What else? Severus thinks I'd better stay at Hogwarts, now Dumbledore's gone, to look after Harry. And he had took a swipe at you." She put her arms around him again, and his encircled her shoulders. "I gave him quite a philippic, I'm afraid. But he held off from responding in kind. He just told me to use his fire if I insisted on going."
"The old man's growing up," Sirius mused, releasing her and picking up her carpet bag to bring it upstairs. "I'm almost disappointed in him."
They passed an enjoyable enough evening, for all Rose's exhaustion. Sirius had prepared a stew, and there was some bread to toast, and plenty of wine. As she watched him put the food on the table, the wine softening the edges of her vision comfortably, Rose suddenly asked, "Have you really not seen Kreacher since Christmas?"
"I really haven't," he replied, cheerfully. "Now, ask me if I miss him."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't you find it rather ominous? Who might he have taken up with?"
"It doesn't actually matter, as I see it." Sirius sat down in his accustomed spot, just around the corner from Rose, and pulled his chair. "I gave him enough direct orders last summer that he shouldn't be able to tell anyone anything of importance. I swore him to secrecy about Headquarters' location, all Order business, my whereabouts, everything. Butter?" he asked, passing her the dish.
Over dinner, they discussed the events of the past week. "I really thought I'd gotten through to Dumbledore," Rose said, shaking her head. "And now he's gone. Has he been by here?"
Sirius wiped his mouth with his napkin. "He sent his Patronus, just keeping me informed. The Order meets on Saturday; he plans to be there, at least at first."
"You know," Rose mused as she folded her napkin and placed it to the left of her plate, "It really is a liability for me to be unable to cast a Patronus. I can't send messages to Order members. I really must resume my study. I just found it so demoralizing."
"Perhaps you'll be able to, now. It may be that you are happier than you were last year. Or do I flatter myself?" He grinned.
"Severus said it wasn't about the degree of happiness, but the ability to focus on it," Rose recalled, ignoring his obvious ploy for a compliment. "I'll ask Mooney to help me tomorrow."
"Or, we can give it a go tonight," Sirius suggested.
And they did, lying on their backs on Rose's bed after dinner, their wands pointed at the ceiling. Sirius' left arm was behind his head, while his right arm directed his Patronus as it galloped about the room. Rose shut her eyes and breathed deeply, concentrating on the memory of the moment, on the day after his birthday, when Sirius had begun to kiss her back. She smiled involuntarily, and made the required spiral motion with her wand. "Expecto Patronum."
A little puff of silver vapor came from her wand. "Have you done that before?" Sirius asked, eagerly.
"Once," she admitted. "But that's as far as it's ever gotten. Still, it's encouraging."
"Try again," he urged.
Rose focused this time on the memory of the two of them in bed, naked under the sheets, laughing in the morning sun. She visualized the sun warming her whole body, the light filling her, and this reminded her of the way she had felt at Christmas. She shifted to imagining Sirius' bow, and the twinkle in his eye before they had begun to dance at the Christmas party. "Expecto Patronum," she whispered. A silvery something emerged and soared around the room. Once or twice she thought she could make out a wing, but it never took a very definite shape.
"I've never seen that before!" she told him excitedly. "I think it's a bird!"
"Bet it's a white peacock," he suggested, and laughed as she pummeled him. "What did you think about, Mademoiselle?" he asked, rolling onto his stomach and extinguishing his Patronus with a flick of his wand.
"What do you think I thought about?" she asked, giving him a coy look.
Sirius put his wand down on the bedside table and embraced her. He gave her a long kiss, and after they broke apart, she put her wand down too. They gazed into each other's eyes, green into grey, and then Sirius reached for her. "Let's make a memory, Rose." he said. "Let's make a marvelous memory, shall we?"
1 "I have missed you."
2 "I have had far worse surprises."